


Fears of you and me

by Cerch



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 12:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3488852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerch/pseuds/Cerch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the night before the battle Lexa cannot bring herself to close her eyes and Clarke's dreams are reigned by death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fears of you and me

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write a Clexa fic. So here it is! Not betaed, as I don't actually know anyone in the 100 fandom, but I hope you enjoy nevertheless.

Lexa imagines she can feel the tensions of the camp crawling on her skin. She should be sleeping – staying awake won’t help anyone – but every time she closes her eyes she sees her hands covered in blood. Whose blood she is not sure. Doesn’t want to know either.

Clarke is sleeping on the other side of tent, her blonde hair barely visible in the darkness. Her breathing laboured and she tosses around jerkily, trying to escape the unpleasant images behind her eyelids. In other place and time Lexa would have woken her up; here and now uneasy sleep is better than no sleep. Lexa knows she should try to get some rest as well, but she has a hunch her brain has more unpleasant images in store for her. She doesn’t want to face them, choosing to trust on adrenaline to carry her through the day instead of risking throwing herself off balance.

Clarke whimpers, a quiet, broken sound that travels straight into Lexa’s heart, digging in with a cruel claws that refuse to let go. Against her rational mind that is coldly telling her to walk away she stands carefully and tiptoes across the room, crouching down to Clarke’s side. She stares down to Clarke’s pinched forehead, and feels a new kind of helplessness when she realises she has no idea what to do.

Clarke whimpers again, head jerking to the side, and almost unwillingly Lexa reaches to smooth a strand of hair away from Clarke’s sweaty face. She has a moment of a dangerous soft feeling blossoming inside her, unbearable and painful, and then Clarke’s eyes snap open, the whites gleaming in the dim light. Surprised, Lexa jerks back as Clarke springs up into a sitting position, clearly startled.

They are still close to each other, eyes locked, and Lexa pretends there is no heat on her cheeks, that her heart doesn’t pound. Their heavy breaths mingle in the air between them.

“You should be sleeping,” Clarke says quietly and looks abruptly away.

Lexa nods, both relieved and disappointed. “I should,” she agrees half-heartedly. Then, because there seems to be a need for some sort of explanation, “You were having a nightmare.”

Clarke shakes her head slowly, face pinched as in pain. “We lost,” her voice wavers and she hides her face behind her hand. Lexa almost reaches to touch and offer comfort but she hesitates, wondering if she should just pretend not to see for the sake of Clarke’s pride.

“We won’t lose,” she says finally, voice firm, and shifts to move away only to be stopped by Clarke’s hand that sneaks after her, fingers locking around her wrist. She meets Clarke’s eyes, which are wide and unsure – there is fear there, fear which echoes with something inside Lexa – and without quite meaning to she leans forward to rest her forehead against Clarke’s.

“Our army is out there,” she whispers, lips ghosting over Clarke’s. “It’s the largest army seen in centuries - the mountain men will fall in the face of their wrath. Our wrath. We are leading them to victory, Clarke. Nothing less.”

Clarke lifts her hand to Lexa’s cheek, runs her thumb over the cheekbone, soothing yet also thrilling.

“You cannot know,” Clarke says quietly.

Lexa kisses her, a chaste touch of lips, before drawing back just a little.

“Maybe not,” she concedes. “But we have to believe.”

This time it’s Clarke who kisses her, deeper, harsher and more demanding. Lexa answers in kind, pressing their bodies together, glad to lose herself and the Lexa who is just as afraid of this as she is of the battle. All that remains is Clarke’s hot mouth, Clarke’s skin under her hands and the roaring of blood in her ears, so loud that it drowns out the small mocking voice in her head that whispers about how she should know better than to love again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3 Kudos and comments are very much treasured!


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